


Hello

by northernexposure



Category: Star Trek Voyager
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friendship, Romance, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 19:13:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20605895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/northernexposure/pseuds/northernexposure
Summary: Years later, Janeway tries to make a call.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this a couple of years ago as a 'get well' card for a friend, at the speed of light, and it wasn't beta'd. I'm sure there are a million other fics that have been written to this song…

_Hello, it's me_

_I was wondering if after all these years you'd like to meet_

_To go over everything_

_They say that time's supposed to heal you_

_But I ain't done much healing_

* * *

Admiral Kathryn Janeway woke and lifted her head from her desk with a wince. The moon was a pearl outside her window, submerged in the cloud-scudded dark of true night. She must have been asleep for some time, she realised, rubbing one hand across her eyes. It had already been late when she'd sent her aide home for the day. She'd only intended to get through one more report, but that one had inevitably turned into more, as they so often did when there was no one to tell her to stop. And there was no one to tell her to stop. Not anymore.

She sat back in her chair, probing her fingers into the ache in her shoulder in an attempt to free up the cramped muscle. She'd done this on _Voyager_, fairly regularly, or at least she had until Chakotay had got wind of it. He'd walked into the ready room one morning and found her still spark out with her face on a PADD. After that, he'd begun a new routine with the express purpose of making sure she never did it again. Every night before he went to bed, he asked the computer if she was in the ready room. She'd discovered this one night when it turned out that she had been and moreover that she'd once again fallen asleep at her desk. He could have asked one of the bridge crew to wake her. He could have comm'd her and jolted her back into the world of consciousness at one remove. But he hadn't. Chakotay had come to the ready room himself, replicated her a mug of camomile tea and then woken her by gently squeezing her shoulder until she'd opened her eyes.

Every night he'd checked on her. Every night, even in those last bitter years after the _Equinox_, although by then if he discovered she was in the ready room, he wasn't above sending someone else to wake her.

She wondered if he'd ever known how much that had affected her – both the initial gesture and then its' evolution, which was so much an indication of everything that had gone wrong between them. They had lost so much, by the end, so much of what they had managed to create out of a command team formed of necessity rather than design.

_I should call him, _she thought. _We should talk. It's been long enough. Hasn't it?_

It was not a new notion and she felt the faint but familiar anxiety that accompanied it, the one that had always held her back and still did now. She looked at the comm. screen on her desk.

_What would I say?_ she wondered. _Would he even answer? It's not as if he'd have to. Not any more._

She stretched out her fingers to activate the screen.

She hesitated.

She withdrew them.

[TBC]


	2. Chapter 2

_Hello, can you hear me_

_I'm in California dreaming about who we used to be_

_When we were younger and free_

_I've forgotten how it felt before the world fell at our feet_

_There's such a difference between us_

_And a million miles_

* * *

Her days were no less busy than they had been in the Delta Quadrant. Kathryn Janeway found herself in demand – Starfleet wanted her on research projects, cadet training rotations, PR boondoggles and anything else they could think of. She didn't mind. Being busy had always suited her. It stopped her thinking too much, at least about things that she was better off forgetting.

Six months post-_Voyager_ turned into a year, into two. Time fled away from her, the days following each other so swiftly it seemed that all Kathryn had to do was blink and another week had passed.

The nights, though, were different. They lasted a long time. She woke frequently from nightmares that were intensely familiar, sitting bolt upright and breathing hard, tangled in damp sheets. She suffered the same ones over and over again, their horrors made not of obvious monsters but of quieter, less tangible miseries. Nebulous fears she had shared with no one, but felt keenly all the same.

Janeway dreamed of _Voyager_'s crew and when she woke the dreams were replaced by memories that kept her awake instead. Often she dreamed of Chakotay and every time she did she woke with the same need to apologise echoing in her head. She wasn't even sure what she was apologising for. Like all dreams, the reasoning behind them was amorphous and obscure, disjointed. But the feeling always lingered.

She wasn't even sure where Chakotay was. How unthinkable that would have been just two years before. It wasn't that they had parted badly, or at least no worse than the final few pulses of the slow disintegration that had already begun out there in the Delta Quadrant had dictated. But neither had made an effort to keep in touch and after the first few weeks, that had seemed deliberate in itself, meaning something more than perhaps it should: an argument in absentia, at least in her own head.

But that was years ago now, literally years, and the more time that passed the more she had begun to realise that there were things she should have said that she never had. In the light of day, when she was always busy, it was easy to forget the urgency she felt in the dark hours. But at night, every time she woke with his face in her head she found herself getting out of bed and pulling on a robe. She found herself going to her comm. station and sitting down at it, determined that this time, she'd do it. This time she'd make the call.

_We should talk. It's been long enough. Hasn't it?_

Maybe not.

It was always the second voice that won out.

[TBC]


	3. Chapter 3

_Hello from the other side_

_I must have called a thousand times_

_To tell you I'm sorry for everything that I've done_

_But when I call you never seem to be home_

* * *

When she did call she did it almost without thinking, before she'd had a chance to talk herself out of it.

One of her new roles was as an advisor to the Starfleet crews charged with First Contact missions. She still held – and would, it was surmised, for many, many decades to come – the record for the Starfleet Captain who had contacted the most civilizations unknown to the Federation. This, and the fact that _Voyager_ had survived all those experiences relatively unscathed had parlayed itself into a belief that Kathryn Janeway held some sort of special knack for diplomacy. She suspected, in fact, that there had been plenty of voices that would have preferred to see her as an ambassador rather than an Admiral of the fleet, but that really wasn't her. Exploration was what made her heart beat faster and although it seemed that the days were past when she would be out there on the frontline of an expedition herself, assisting the First Contact teams at least gave her an insight into what new worlds those other Captains were set to encounter.

When the copious notes about the Briel came across her desk, a civilisation that seemed to have a cultural history twice as aged as Earth, her first thought had been, _Chakotay would love this planet_. She could see him now, in her mind's eye, his expressive face taking in the wonder of a site that the Briel called the Pinnacle, a 3,000 metre high monument hewn from rock to honour an ancient god before their human ancestors had even managed to crawl out of the primordial soup. 

Her eyes had still been fixed avidly on the PADD when she'd reached out and activated her comm.

"Computer, call Chakotay."

It was only when the computer's bleep indicated its compliance that she actually realised what she had done. She stared at the comm. screen as it began to connect, her chest constricting. She could have cut the call. She almost did. But suddenly it seemed to her that perhaps, after all, unprepared was the best way to enter this conversation.

_Hello. I was reading something and it made me think of you, Chakotay. I wanted to tell you about it. Anyway, how are you? We should talk. It's been long enough. Hasn't it?_

She put down the PADD and twined her fingers together, trying to settle on the right kind of smile, trying not to let all the perfectly good reasons that had prevented her doing this before resurface in her mind.

The call went unanswered. She could have left a message. She could have told the computer to keep trying. But by then the moment had passed, replaced by the same anxieties that had dogged her previous attempts.

"Computer, terminate call." Janeway looked out of the window for a moment and then added, "Remove call marker from destination terminal."

She didn't want him to feel obligated to return the gesture.

She tried not to think about the possibility that he might have been there anyway and had simply not wanted to answer.

[TBC]


	4. Chapter 4

_Hello, how are you?_

_It's so typical of me to talk about myself I'm sorry_

_I hope that you're well_

_Did you ever make it out of that town where nothing ever happened?_

_It's no secret that the both of us_

_Are running out of time_

* * *

When she received word of him, it was as part of a conversation with Tom Paris at his father's retirement celebrations.

"Have you heard that Chakotay's leaving Earth, Admiral?" Tom asked.

"I hadn't. For good, you mean?"

"Well, for a while, at least. The Trill have offered him a position as a visiting professor of Archaeology at their most prestigious university."

Kathryn smiled. "That sounds like a wonderful opportunity for Chakotay. I'm glad it's come his way."

Tom smiled back. "So am I. B'Elanna's not too happy, though – she's got used to having him on call as a babysitter."

This statement made her blink, surprised, though she knew she shouldn't be. Somehow, she had forgotten that while silence had reigned between them, they had mutual friends and those relationships had continued – in fact had clearly grown – since _Voyager_ reached Earth.

She spied a familiar face making its way through the throng towards them and lifted a welcoming hand with a smile.

"Tom," she said. "I'd like you to meet Rick."

It was the third year following _Voyager_'s return and life was good for Kathryn Janeway. Her night terrors had all but ceased and her days were fuller than ever. She had even managed to begin sorting out the other areas of her life, the ones that had been on hold for so long that Kathryn had almost forgotten how essential they were. It seemed absurd to use the term 'boyfriend' at her age, so this was never how she introduced Rick. In any case, their time together tended to be intermittent, which suited her. Her work could still be extremely demanding and was no less important to her than her role as Captain of Voyager had been. Her relationship with Rick often fitted around her schedule, rather than his. He seemed accepting of this, though she suspected he would prefer at least a little more permanence between them. Not that he had ever approached this subject. He had enough to occupy him in his own career as producer for Earth's most popular current affairs holochannel.

She cared about him. She would not have prolonged their association if she did not. But when she thought of the future, she couldn't see Rick in it. She hoped that this would change, while suspecting that actually, it wouldn't.

Years ago, such thoughts may have worried her more. But they seemed less urgent now, less all-encompassing. She was content to see what would happen, and if it didn't work out, it wouldn't be the end of the world. It was a relief not to have to worry about consequences; not to second guess everything she did, to simply live in the present.

That night, she woke tangled in damp sheets, with Chakotay's face in her head and an echo of the old ambiguities of that never-voiced apology. She slipped out of bed and returned to that old ritual: pulling on her robe, sitting at her comm. station, reaching out to activate the screen.

_Soon he'll be gone and who knows? He may never return to Earth. I should call him. We should talk, before that happens. It's been long enough. Hasn't it?_

But the other voice that had always silenced her before silenced her again.

_He has a new life. So do you. _Voyager_ is behind us both._

_Better to let sleeping dogs lie._

She withdrew her hand.

[TBC]


	5. Chapter 5

_So hello from the other side_

_I must have called a thousand times_

_To tell you I'm sorry for everything that I've done_

_But when I call you never seem to be home_

_Hello from the outside_

_At least I can say that I've tried_

_To tell you I'm sorry for breaking your heart_

_But it don't matter it clearly doesn't tear you apart anymore_

* * *

There was a place, somewhere a little east of her heart, where she stored all the truths she had never admitted to anyone, least of all herself. Anyone who had known her at close quarters for a prolonged period of time recognised it was there, or at least suspected. It was an equal truth that anyone who really knew her knew better than to push her to reveal its contents.

Her relationship with Rick cooled when they each discovered one significant thing about the other: she, that he had not learned her well enough to recognise this basic fact and he when he realised that she was not willing to open her inner self to him completely.

There are prices of admission that each relationship demands and it turned out these were theirs. They both understood that neither was at fault for these invisible tolls. Extended compromise will take you so far and then, whatever good intentions with which the venture had begun; it will abandon you to resentment. Both were too old not to recognise this particular truth. They parted amicably and with honest regret for a future that would not be. Kathryn was downcast but not surprised. She was also too busy to mourn the relationship for long.

Her mother, having imagined that this particular partnership may go further, was possibly more disappointed than her daughter.

"We just didn't suit each other," Kathryn told Gretchen, as she broke the news.

"Is there anyone out there who _would_ suit you, Kathryn?" her mother had asked, mildly exasperated. "Or have you decided that work is all you need?"

"I met a good hologram once," she quipped lightly, keen to deflect this sort of interrogation, which she hadn't ever willingly tolerated, even in her teens. 

Her mother grimaced. "I don't think I want to know about that, thank you very much."

That was the end of that conversation, but nevertheless her mother's question lingered in her mind. Perhaps there really was no one out there who would suit her. Did it matter? She wasn't sure it did. She had plenty of friends and a million other distractions to fill her time. She resolved to work harder at cultivating her friendships, to invest time in the people around her as well as her work. Too often she had let dinner invitations lapse because of a deadline she did not want to miss. Kathryn Janeway vowed to herself that she would not let her friends drift away from her, not anymore.

Which brought her back to Chakotay. Maybe now was finally the time to vent whatever had clogged the air between them in the wake of _Voyager_'s journey. She couldn't deny that their friendship had been one of the most important of her life. He had kept her grounded, kept her sane throughout the many years of the ship's exile. She could not have made that long, difficult crossing without him. Those years, those difficult years.

At this far a remove, she remembered the bitterness less than she did everything else. Those nights when he woke her in the ready room were a perfect example, she realised. The feel of them resurfaced in her memory: the taste of the camomile tea, his soft smile as he pulled her back to wakefulness. He would stay with her as she drank and then he always walked her back to her quarters. Sometimes they would talk but others they would not, depending on how exhausted she was, depending on how the day had been, what they had endured and at what cost. He had always known, without having to ask, which of these to avenues to pursue.

She shouldn't have let him fade out of her life the way he had. Whatever had happened towards the end, he'd been a rare friend when she'd needed one the most. She missed him. She'd always missed him. Whatever bitterness had existed could not change that.

_I should call,_ she thought. _We should talk. It's been long enough. Hasn't it? And even if he doesn't feel the same, even if he would rather not talk to me… I should at least try._

_Shouldn't I?_

[TBC]


	6. Chapter 6

_So hello from the other side_

_I must have called a thousand times_

_To tell you I'm sorry for everything that I've done_

_But when I call you never seem to be home_

_Hello from the outside_

_At least I can say that I've tried_

_To tell you I'm sorry for breaking your heart_

_But it don't matter it clearly doesn't tear you apart anymore_

* * *

Chakotay was still on the Trill homeworld, which gave her a tactical option. Direct communication over such a distance was difficult anyway. It would be far easier to send a recorded message. Far easier and probably more cowardly, she chided herself. But nevertheless, the idea stuck.

It took Kathryn a week to finalise what she was going to say. She recorded it over and over, changed it completely several times; abandoned the whole thing more than once. Eventually, though, she succeeded in producing something she could find no objections to. It was a short and friendly message, just a hello, really, opening a door to see whether he would respond. There was of course the possibility that he wouldn't. That was another reason why a recorded message was a good idea. It gave Chakotay an out. He didn't have to respond if he didn't want to. And if he didn't…

Well. At least she'd know that she had tried.

It took another couple of days to actually send the communique. It sat on her screen, the little icon catching her eye every time she closed one file and opened another.

_This is absurd,_ she told herself, eventually, in a fit of determination at the end of one busy Thursday. _Just do it._

And she did. Her fingers reached for the screen and this time they did not hesitate. She sent the message out into the ether. Then stared at the place where it had once existed. She'd done it. For better or for worse, she'd at least made an attempt to communicate.

Suddenly exhausted, Kathryn pushed back her chair and stood up from her desk. She'd call it a night, she decided. It was earlier than she'd usually leave the office, but that was still later than anyone else in the building would be working. She had another early start in the morning. She'd go home, pour herself a glass of wine.

She was walking away from her desk when the peal of a notification tugged her back again. Kathryn leaned over her screen. Something strange happened to her heart, an unexpected wave of exhilaration coupled with something else, something darker. There was a new notification. It was from Chakotay's terminal at the university. He must have replied instantly. But how-

She opened the message. It was text only, a standard notification.

_This message delivery has failed,_ it informed her starkly. _This user no longer exists._

Kathryn stared blankly at the words as her heart thumped a painful, messy beat. Then she straightened up, took a breath, squared her jaw and left the room. He must have moved on again. His professorship at that university had only ever been as a visitor, after all, so that was not surprising. Perhaps if she hadn't hesitated so long, she would have caught him. But now it was too late. It was over. She'd tried. Of course, she could probably find out where he'd gone, if she really wanted to. But did she? Wasn't this telling her something?

It was too late, and it was over.

_Let sleeping dogs lie. _Voyager_ is behind us both. It's for the best._

Kathryn walked out of the building and tipped her head back to look up at the sky, blue burnished with the first gold tints of another Californian evening. She breathed in and then let that breath go.

She lowered her head again, stepping forward to find that someone was in her path. She stopped. For a moment she thought she must have fallen and hit her head.

Chakotay was standing right there, in front of her. There was a faint smile on his face. He was studying her carefully.

"Hello," he said, quietly. 

"I-" Kathryn blinked. "Hello."

Chakotay took a breath.

"I've been trying to call you for three years," he said. "I've tried so many times. But I've never quite managed it. Then I realised that actually, maybe what I needed to do was see you in person. So – here I am. Hello, Kathryn. We should talk. It's been long enough. Hasn't it?"

And Kathryn Janeway began to laugh.

[END]


End file.
